


Cosmic Love

by araliya



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araliya/pseuds/araliya
Summary: Two boys meet at a river. They love each other, wholly and unconditionally, and they continue to do so for all eternity.Again and again and again.





	Cosmic Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is the AncientGreece!AU that no one asked for, and is purely self-indulgent. Fellow pretentious lovers of Classical history and homoerotic fig eating, rejoice!
> 
> Title and lyrics from Florence and the Machine's Cosmic Love
> 
>  
> 
> Chares - χαρις (Charis) meaning "grace, kindness".
> 
> Dareois - Δαρειος (Dareios), meaning “Persian King”. The Greek form of the Persian name Dārayavahush.

 

_(a falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes)_ **  
**

 

The water whispers as it skims across the rocks of the river bed, masking the sound of Chares’ footsteps, grass and twigs snapping under his feet. Ahead of him, the outline of a body is visible through the reeds. It is slender and lithe, golden skin absorbing the midday sun and casting it back a thousand times brighter.

 

He is here.

 

Chares has only seen him once before: the first time he ventured down the river to look for an area more sheltered than the one he usually frequented. A woman had started to take her washing down to the rocks there, and Chares found it rather uncomfortable bathing under her motherly eye.

 

All he had been in search of were a few more trees and smoother rocks. Chares had not expected  _him_.

 

“Hello,” comes a voice, and Chares promptly topples backwards into the grass, eyes wide with shock. Above him stands a boy- no, a  _man_ \- with curling black hair and a wide smile. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

 

He holds out a hand, and it is a moment before Chares notices it. “I- uh,” he starts, taking it carefully and allowing himself to be pulled upright. “I don’t usually venture down this far.”

 

The young man’s eyes are a clear amber up close, utterly polar to Chares’ own sky coloured ones. “My name is Dareois,” he says warmly.

 

“Chares.”

 

“Chares,” Dareois repeats, as if tasting the name on his tongue. He grins, broad and audacious. “Come and bathe with me.”

 

***

 

_(I screamed aloud, as it tore through them, and now it's left me blind)_

 

“Why do you come down here?”

 

Dareois lies on his back, treading water gently. Their tunics dry on the rocks, having been washed with the purple  _clématis_  that they had picked and crushed to use as soap. Dareois’ tunic is hemmed with gold thread, and the sunlight winks off it playfully.

 

“I don’t like the baths,” Chares replies. “There are too many people there, and I like fresh water.” He pauses for a beat. “Why do you?”

 

Dareois’ hair floats around his head like a halo, and as he grins up at Chares, he looks almost like a God. Utterly entrancing and undoubtedly dangerous. “It’s peaceful here,” Dareois explains lightly. “I live close to the Agora and I don’t often get to be alone.”

 

“That’s rather far from here.”

 

“It’s worth it,” Dareois says, and as he does, he holds Chares’ gaze. Chares swallows, and tries to look anywhere but at his glistening skin, disappearing into ochre shadows under the water. They are both naked, and while it’s ordinary for people to go bathing together, Chares feels as if he is seeing something he shouldn’t.

 

Dareois seems to delight in his reddening cheeks, and splashes at him impishly. Chares retaliates with a larger splash, and what follows is a spirited battle to drag each other underwater. Dareois eventually loses his footing and tumbles into the water, arms flailing. Chares laughs and laughs and laughs, until Dareois resurfaces, shaking out his wet curls like a drenched puppy. They are both breathless and contented, chests heaving with effort.

 

Chares’ laughter dies in his throat when he realises how close Dareois is to him. In fact, he’s almost backed up against the smooth rocks behind them, Dareois steadfastly in his way.

 

“You have lovely eyes,” he says, almost by way of explanation.

 

Chares stares at him, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish.

 

“My mother has a ring with a stone just like them.”

 

Dareois reaches out, fingers brushing Chares’ temple. His eyes ask a silent question. Chares doesn’t even have to nod before he’s tilting his head down to finally,  _finally_  reach Dareois’ lips.

 

***

 

_(the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out)_

 

Dareois is impossibly gentle, pressing in and plucking wet, exploratory kisses from Chares’ lips. Chares arches up into his touch, curling an arm around the breadth of his shoulders and pulling him close, taking and taking and taking. They part for air, foreheads pressed together.

 

“You taste like figs,” is the first thing Chares says.

 

Dareois laughs, eyes dancing. “There’s a fig tree by the bank. They’ve been nice and ripe lately.”

 

“I can tell,” Chares replies, and Dareois’ grin widens, cupping Chares’ jaw and leaning in again. Their kisses soon become less teasing and more insistent, until Chares is gasping against Dareois’ lips, a searching hand slipped under his thigh and hooked around Dareois’  waist.

 

“Dareois-,” Chares starts, and Dareois pulls away, looking at him searchingly.

 

“Yes?” he asks gently, thumb brushing back and forth over the soft skin behind Chares’ knee.

 

“Yes,” Chares says. “Yes.”

 

***

 

_(no dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight)_

 

Touching Dareois is like touching Eastern silk, skin smooth and satiny under Chares’ touch. His hands splay across Dareois’ back as he is pressed up against the cool rock, water swirling around them in a whirlpool.

 

Chares draws kisses from Dareois’ lips, pulling them out of him like pulling nectar from a flower. The sweetness spreads across his tongue and clouds his brain, and Dareois presses against him ever closer. He is hot and hard against Chares, the smooth length of him leaving streaks against Chares’ stomach.

 

“Lover-,” Dareois starts to say, but Chares quiets him with a thumb across his lips.

 

“Hush,” he whispers softly, rocking back into the stone with every thrust. “Let me.”

 

Chares slides a palm across Dareois’ shoulders and down his chest, to gather them both in his hand. He begins a firm rhythm, back and forth, until Dareois has squeezed his eyes shut and Chares’ breath has grown ragged.

 

The heat builds until it finally overflows, filling Chares with warmth and making his hand stutter. Dareois shudders against him not long after, and as he sags bonelessly against Chares’ body, the water around them is suddenly loud once more.

 

There is nothing but the sound of their beating hearts and the rippling currents, and the feeling of Dareois’ lips against his neck.

 

***

 

_(in the shadow of your heart)_

 

“Father is a magistrate.”

 

Dareois says it lightly, as if it is as commonplace and uninteresting as farming. He lies on his back on the rocks, droplets of water clinging to his skin like dew, forearm shielding his eyes from the sun. Chares’ own skin is sticky from the sesame oil he carries around, to protect it from burning to a painful red crisp. A rather unwelcome gift from his northern ancestors.

 

“He’s been teaching me about what he does, but it doesn’t interest me very much.”

 

“What would you like to do instead?” Chares asks, shifting onto his stomach. He is intrigued by this boy, by his dancing eyes and his airy grace. He would not be out of place on a throne in Mount Olympus.

 

“I would like to be an  _aoidos_.”

 

Chares stares at him. “A bard?”

 

“Why do you look so surprised? I can sing,  _and_  I can play the lyre. Isn’t that all I need? That and a pretty face?”

 

“Well you’re equipped in that respect,” Chares agrees, and Dareois laughs.

 

“Father thinks it is beneath me to be employed to someone at their beck and call, but I don’t mind,” he says earnestly. “I enjoy making music.”

 

“You will have to play for me someday.”

 

“I will,” Dareois assures him steadily, and Chares’ breath hitches a little. They haven’t spoken about what they will do after today. Chares hopes that Dareois will continue to see him, but he is unsure whether Dareois is like some other men- the kind that treat their lays like figs. Plucked and tasted and thrown away.

 

“I can see you thinking,” Dareios says after a beat, and Chares curses inwardly. “Will you speak?”

 

Chares traces the rock beneath him with a finger, before looking up at Dareois. “I am worried,” he admits carefully, “that we may not see each other again.”

 

Immediately Dareois is up and close, crouching down to lay a hand across his cheek. Chares lifts himself up onto his elbows to meet his gaze. “ _Phíltatos_ -,” Dareois starts ardently.  _Beloved_.

 

Chares interrupts him quietly. “-it is too soon for you to call me that.”

 

“Never. Not unless you would not like me to.”

 

“I would.”

 

“Good,” Dareois murmurs, trailing a finger down Chares’ nose to swipe across his bottom lip. “Because I would so like to do this…”

 

He leans down to capture Chares’ lips in a gentle kiss, slowly but surely pushing him onto his back, placing his knees on either side of Chares’ hips. Dareois curls over him and presses sweet kisses into his cheeks and neck, sliding ever lower to the skin of Chares’ chest.

 

“Do you still have your sesame oil?” Dareois murmurs, barely lifting his lips from Chares’ skin.

 

Heat floods through his body like Prometheus’ flame.

 

“...yes.”

 

***

 

_(I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map)_

 

Dareois’ thighs are slick and shiny with oil as he lowers himself onto Chares, a flush spreading down his chest from exertion. Chares holds onto his waist, guiding him, feeling his heat envelop him, feeling  _home_.

 

After a few moments, Dareois is seated, and he reaches down for a kiss, panting into Chares’ mouth. “Have you ever-” he asks shakily, and Chares silences him with his lips.

 

“No,” he says, tightening his grip, feeling the pads of his fingers sink into Dareois’ soft flesh, “never.”

 

At that Dareois’ eyes grow warmer, and he bestows kisses onto Chares almost tenderly. Slowly, he starts up an unhurried movement, rocking in Chares’ lap as if savouring every motion. Chares comes up to meet him with his lips, and it is almost like dancing, the way they are carefully in tandem.

 

Soon, Dareois’ thighs grow tense and ridged with taut muscle, head thrown back, mouth open in silent ecstasy. Chares does not give into the aching in his lower torso that encourages him to buck, in fear that he will hurt Dareois, but his fingers hold faster and his breaths grow shorter.

 

A bead of sweat trickles down Dareois’ forehead and he begins to palm himself. The picture is enough to bring Chares over the edge and he comes with a cry, the sun and the stars bright behind his eyelids. Dareois follows not long after, collapsing onto Chares’ chest, wet and sated.

 

Their eyes meet for a few, long seconds, before Dareois smiles. At that moment, Chares is convinced of his divine blood.

 

***

 

_(and knew that somehow I could find my way back)_

 

The sun sets slowly over the fields, casting everything in a golden-pink hue. Chares and Dareois lie side by side on the bank, eating figs.

 

“You should come to the city with me someday,” Dareois says. “My mother would like you. She’s Persian, and very beautiful.”

 

“She birthed you,” Chares replies. “She must be.”

 

“Then your mother must be too.” Dareois brushes a lock of Chares’ chestnut hair out off his temple. “Is she as pale and lovely as the man before me?”

 

Chares flushes lightly. It must show terribly on his skin. “My mother is very lovely, yes,” he says. “I could never hold a candle to her.”

 

“You lie,” Dareois says, and although his tone is laughing, his eyes are not. “You do not realise how beautiful you are. I can see it in the way you move- you hold your shoulders as if someone is about to beat you.”

 

Chares looks at him, and his skin feels like it is suddenly stretched too thin.

 

“You should know,” Dareois vows to him, casting aside his half-eaten fig and sitting up. Chares sits up to meet him. “You should know how I love to look at you. How I would love to love you.” He brushes his lips across Chares’ temple. “ _Phíltatos_.”

 

***

 

Two boys meet at a river. They love each other, wholly and unconditionally, and they continue to do so for all eternity.

 

Again and again and again.


End file.
